


Anchor

by purple_cube



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-02
Updated: 2014-07-02
Packaged: 2018-02-07 05:11:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1886337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purple_cube/pseuds/purple_cube
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It's just sometimes I can't stand it anymore. To the point where ... I'm not sure what I'll do.” - Peeta Mellark, Catching Fire. The party at Snow's mansion takes its toll on Peeta, and it's up to Katniss to help the boy with the bread find his way back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anchor

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a request on Tumblr, to use the dialogue "must be a day ending in y". This takes place in Chapter 6 of Catching Fire, and is more book canon-compliant than movie, referencing the conversation at Snow’s party where Peeta suggests that they might be wrong in trying to subdue the uprising.

 

Effie herds us straight into the waiting car as soon as the party begins to wind down. We had been asked whether we wanted to stay in the Capitol following the celebration at the Presidential Palace, and Peeta had looked at me for my opinion before answering for the both of us. My slight shake of the head was more than enough to communicate my feelings on the subject.

 

“We’d prefer to get back to 12 as soon as we can, Effie.”

 

Our escort, as usual, had done little to hide her disappointment in our lack of interest in what the Capitol had to offer. “Very well. We can sleep on the train.”

 

But now, she seems almost relieved as we make our way to the station. “At least we can relax a little when we get to 12 tomorrow. Though if it were up to me, I would much rather spend those precious few hours in the Capitol. There are so many sights that the two of you have yet to see.”

 

“We’ll get to them next time,” I assure her.

 

Effie clearly disagrees. “Oh, you’ll be far too busy next time. You’ll have the wedding to think of.”

 

The wedding. After tonight, I’m more confident than ever that it will never arrive – that President Snow will never allow me to live long enough for it to happen. Still, I go through the motions, smiling at Effie before turning my gaze to my fiancé. “I expect so.”

 

Peeta however, looks displeased. “We don’t need to think about that now,” he tells us. “We’ve got to get through the Harvest Festival first.”

 

Effie claps her hands, and the way the sound reverberates through the car makes us both wince as we turn to her.

 

“That’s right. Tomorrow is another big, big day!”

 

“Must be a day ending in Y,” Peeta mutters under his breath. I know that Effie hasn’t heard him, and it takes all of my strength to keep from turning to stare at him. The side of him that I have witnessed tonight is new – he has always been unfailingly polite to Effie, to everyone in the Capitol, even after the conversation with my prep team and their magical little drink that ensures that stomachs will never be too full.

 

_This_ Peeta even questions our commitment to subduing the discontent in the districts. It is one thing for Gale and I to criticize and lament in the relative safety of the woods outside 12 – it is another thing entirely for Peeta to be voicing his displeasure in Snow’s mansion.

 

Luckily, Haymitch’s drunken snores from the front seat catch Effie’s attention before she has the opportunity to notice this marked change in Peeta’s behavior. She leans forward and puts what seems like her entire body into shaking him awake as the car comes to a stop outside the station. I feel only a little guilty as I leave them behind to catch up with Peeta, who has stormed straight out of the car and onto the train without waiting for anybody else.

 

I manage to slip into his room before the door slides shut.

 

“Peeta?”

 

He doesn’t turn, but the dim lighting is more than enough to allow me to see the way that his shoulders slump. “Katniss, please. I just need a few minutes to myself.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Slowly, I make my way to the dining carriage, where everyone but Haymitch has now assembled. When Peeta joins us, I’m relieved that Effie simply reminds of tomorrow’s schedule and suggests that we go to bed.

 

I’m even more relieved when Peeta follows me to my room.

 

He starts to apologize when I turn around to face him, but I hold my hand up to tell him to stop. I want to ask him what he was thinking, saying the things that he did tonight. I want to ask him if he even suspects, as I do, that our behavior and our conversations are being monitored in every room that we attend.

 

I want to ask him if he thinks that there is any hope for us to make it out of this alive.

 

I settle for something far simpler. “Are you okay?”

 

“I’ll always be okay,” he says in a resigned voice that suggests the exact opposite. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

 

If anything, I feel even more agitated over his state of mind. “Peeta –“

 

“Don’t. Just don’t.”

 

His head drops into his hands. I wonder again if this room is safe enough for the two of us to speak our minds, and come to the conclusion that it probably isn’t. “I want to take a shower,” I inform him loudly. “And I want you to join me.”

 

His expression is tired when he finally raises his head. Tired of trying to work out the situation, and the meaning behind my words. Tired of trying to work _me_ out.

 

“Please,” I beg. “It’s what I want.”

 

He doesn’t respond, so I take his hand into mine and lead him out of the room and along the corridor to the communal bathroom. We’re traveling at full speed now, and we both stumble a little as the train rounds a particularly sharp bend. Once inside, I let him go to reach into the cubicle and switch on the water, knowing that the sound is loud enough to drown out our words should this room be monitored too. 

 

I repeat my question. “Are you okay?”

 

“I meant what I said earlier,” he tells me quietly. “I don’t think I can stand this much longer.”

 

“They’ll kill you if you don’t try, Peeta. They’ll kill all of us.”

 

I don’t tell him that I already have Snow’s answer, that I’m certain we’ll be killed soon enough anyway. Now is not the time.

 

“I wish that things were different.”

 

It’s such a simple statement, one that I might have scoffed at if it had been voiced by anyone but Peeta. One that I might even have scoffed at if he had said it before the Games.

 

“Me too,” I say instead.

 

I think about the boy standing in front of me. The boy who took a beating just to give me some bread. The boy who allied with the Careers before fighting Cato to give me a chance to escape. The boy who lives alone in that enormous house.

 

The boy who just keeps surprising me, with his thoughtfulness and compassion for those who are less fortunate than himself.

 

I kiss him. Not because I think that we might be being watched, not even because I think that it’s what he wants. I kiss him because _I_ want to.

 

And when he begins to pull away, I tell him exactly that. “I want to. Please.”

 

But still he doesn’t move – so I go to him. I wrap my hand around the back of his head, pulling him towards me at the same time that I lean forward. We meet halfway, and any doubts that I feel regarding his own wants and needs dissolve when his lips part to deepen the kiss.

 

He guides me until the basin is pressing against the small of my back, just below the area where he brings his own hands to rest. I have no idea how long we stay there for, lazily taking turns to explore each other’s mouths.

 

Slowly, I feel the muscles that lie beneath my fingertips begin to relax. The tension in his neck and shoulders has all but dissipated when he finally leans back.

 

“We should get some sleep,” he says softly. He still seems tired, but the frustration and sadness in his expression is gone.

 

I nod my head, inhaling his scent one final time before pulling away. When I look up at him, he gives me a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’ll be okay,” I tell him as brightly as I can.

 

He laughs, though I suspect that it comes out more bitterly than he intended. “You’re still a terrible liar, Katniss.”

 

I nod, accepting his statement, before settling for a different approach. “We’ll figure something out when we get back to 12.” In the back of my mind, I begin to formulate my plan, one that I’m now sure Peeta will want to be a part of. I feel a sense of relief in knowing that I won’t have to leave him behind.

 

I lead him back out into the corridor after switching off the shower, not even bothering to check if anyone else is out there. Being seen will make no difference anyway, not now that Snow has told me himself that I have failed in convincing him of my feelings towards Peeta. The irony of the situation and the fact that I wanted the kisses that we have just shared – and him – more than ever certainly doesn’t escape me.

 

When we get to my door, he pulls his hand away from mine. “I’m just going to change into my night clothes.” He must see the concern in my expression, because he leans forward to place his lips on my temple in a gentle kiss. “I’m alright, Katniss, I promise. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

 

I watch him disappear into his room before letting myself into my own. I must fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow, because I don’t even hear him return. When I wake, it’s early afternoon and I’m resting on Peeta’s arm. He smiles down at me, looking much more relaxed and like himself than he had done last night.

 

“No nightmares,” he tells me. And he’s right – for the first time in ages, I slept through the night.

 


End file.
